‘And now you’re knocking on my mum’s door.’ He jerks a thumb back over his shoulder towards one of the other houses on the street. ‘You can’t go around harassing people in their own homes.’
‘I wasn’t harassing anyone, I was just trying to find out where—’
‘Who do you work for? TheSun?Express?’
He moves still closer and I smell his sharply pungent aftershave with a base coat of sour sweat. He’s got to be sixteen stone at least, the kind of guy who’s used to impressing and intimidating people with his size, his bulk, using it to get what he wants. I take a step back away from him – further from the street, from the anaemic street light – and he comes forward again, nostrils flaring. I go to move around and past him but he puts out his big arms and now he’s crowding me, blocking my path back to the pavement. There’s no one else around, dusk is falling fast, and for the first time I feel a shiver of unease flash up my spine. I think of the attack alarm in my handbag, slung over my shoulder, wondering if anyone will respond if I trigger it.
‘Let me through,’ I say, trying to make it sound more like an instruction than a request.
‘You don’t get away that easily. Not until I’ve seen some ID.’
‘Can you let me pass, please?’
‘Show me your ID.’
‘I’m not going to do that.’ I reach into my handbag.
‘Then you ain’t leaving.’ He jerks his chin at my handbag. ‘What’s in the bag?’
‘Nothing very interesting.’
‘OK I’ll just report you for harassment right now then.’ He pulls a mobile from his pocket and before I know what he’s doing there’s a camera flash. ‘I’msickof you people.’
‘Did you just take my picture?’
‘Going to make sure everyone knows who you are.’
‘This is ridiculous.’
‘I’ve got another idea,’ he says. ‘How about—’
Another voice cuts him off. A male voice, calm, neutral, reasonable. ‘Is there a problem here?’
Half over his shoulder, Max says tonelessly, ‘No problem, mate.’
There is a crunch of footsteps on gravel as the figure approaches and I feel the relief and gratitude wash through me as a familiar face appears at Max’s shoulder.
‘Everything all right?’ Gilbourne asks.
‘Everything’s cool,’ Max says, without taking his eyes off me. ‘We’re just having a chat.’
‘Why don’t you take a couple of steps back, sir.’
Max turns on him angrily, his expression darkening as he registers the warrant card open in Gilbourne’s hand, the photo ID and Met Police crest.
‘Eh?’
‘Just take two steps back, sir, and we’ll get this all sorted out, shall we?’
‘She’s harassing people.’
‘It’s all right. She’s with me.’
‘What?’ Max’s face creases with confusion. ‘What do you mean?’
‘We were actually just leaving, weren’t we Ellen?’ He gives Max a nod. ‘Have a good evening, sir.’
He turns and heads back out to the pavement. Max doesn’t try to stop me as I follow.
